


Owning You Kills Me

by kylorenhasan8pack



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Last Jedi
Genre: Dubious Consent, First Love, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Implied threesomes, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kissing, Love Triangles, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Possibly Unrequited Love, The Dark Side of the Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylorenhasan8pack/pseuds/kylorenhasan8pack
Summary: When Poe becomes a prisoner of the First Order once again, Kylo Ren attempts to manipulate his mind so that the Resistance pilot turns to their cause. It goes horribly wrong. Darkpilot/Kylux with implied past Ben/Poe.





	Owning You Kills Me

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This is in dubcon territory due to accidental incorrect use of the Force on a character. M rating is soft otherwise.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Poe being a prisoner of the First Order for a second time in so short a period _had_ to be a sign. It _had_ to mean something, and whatever that was, it wasn’t an opportunity that Kylo Ren had wanted to pass up.

Throwing his arm out wildly, he swung it in a broad, wide stroke, letting his gloved hand strike whatever was in his way, a vase and books falling off of the shelf to his right. The piece of no-doubt expensive pottery shattered into a thousand, colorful, jagged shards on the smooth flooring of his second in command’s office, a metaphor of multiple meanings that didn’t fall short in his or General Hux’s minds.

The General watched the Supreme Leader’s tantrum with what seemed to be only a vague expression of concern on his otherwise unamused face. His irritation, as usual, must have outweighed any real semblance of fear of Ren’s temper. Ren didn’t care for that.

“We _discussed_ this,” Hux rebuked him through gritted teeth.

Anger that had never been quelled flared anew, stronger. There it was. _That tone_. That know-it-all, disapproving sneer that was like metal scraping and tearing at metal. He didn’t need that of all things now. Ren struck out again. This time his fist connected with the bookshelf itself, sending tendrils of pain shooting through his fist in a pleasant burst that only fed his rage.

“You said that you had this under control and you _broke_ him,” the other man went on, no less derisive than before. “And _not_ in the way that we discussed.”

“I didn’t break him!” Ren’s shout was so loud he could feel it in his vocal cords, but it _did_ cause the General to start, taking a small step backwards to allow him to knock another vase off of the shelf closest to his head and watch it smash by his feet.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d wanted to turn him, not--

“Well, the pilot is in no shape to fly _anything_ now, is he, Ren?” Hux folded his arms over his chest. “You can barely leave him in my quarters for an hour without him mentioning your name a dozen times, asking when you’ll return, when he can see you.” Ren flinched, but Hux appeared to only take the physical reaction as a reason to continue. He wished he wouldn’t do that. “If you never wanted him for the First Order at all, all you had to do was say so.”

“And what are you implying, General?”

Hux arched his eyebrows as if his meaning were apparent. “What I am implying is that all you had to do was say that you wanted a bloody _whore_ rather than a pilot in the first place.”

That did it.

“Get out!”

“This is _my_ damned office!” He stood firm, watching as Ren kicked angrily at a book, making it skid across the room. “Perhaps if you didn’t consistently overestimate your own abilities, you wouldn’t go poking around in prisoners’ brains until you-”

“ _Out_!”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Frustration still pumped through his veins as Ren stomped back to his own quarters where Poe sat dutifully on the edge of the bed, idly reading a book and anxiously thrumming his fingers against his thighs. He nearly groaned when the pilot jumped to his feet, his eyes lit up with something akin to joy that sent an uncomfortable sick feeling to the pit of his stomach. He hated the way guilt knotted in his gut, then travelled and spread up to his chest until he was choking on it. He was tired of choking on the vile emotion. He wasn’t doing anything wrong! This was in line with what Snoke had taught him. This was necessity, all of it for the good of the First Order. He hadn’t known—he hadn’t meant—

“Ben!”

His face was pressed to Ren’s broad chest in a mere moment and it almost felt like old times every damned time he did it. Days when he himself was shorter, scrawnier, _innocent_ , and answered to that name that had been long forbidden within these walls. He hadn’t stopped the man from saying it, not after—but he still wasn’t entirely used to the feelings that hearing it brought up either.

“Hey,” his voice sounded foreign to him now, softer.

“What happened to you, Baby?” Poe’s arms were looped around his waist and his lips were kissing his clothed chest like he’d just returned from war. “You were gone when I woke up and the door was locked from the outside. Had me worried.” 

Poe’s casual chuckle hurt. How could he think this was like _then_? How could he think this was normal?

(Ren knew exactly how, but that wasn’t the point.)

“Mhm,” was all he replied at first, absently allowing himself to brush his lips to the crown of the pilot’s head, breathing in the floral scent of his hair. Hux’s shampoo. He still didn’t understand why the General insisted on bringing his own assorted hygiene supplies to his quarters when he shared his bed and refresher. “I thought it was safer for you.”

Poe bit his lip flirtatiously as he looked up, meeting his eyes. “No worries there, Baby, not when I have you to protect me, huh?” His hand went to Ren’s collar and then he was tugging him down.

His kisses were almost the worst part of this whole situation. The familiarity, the softness, the intimacy that deep down somewhere Ren craved and pushed away at once. Kissing Hux tasted like need, but kissing Poe tasted of nostalgia. He’d given into it before, when this first began, before he understood it. He hadn’t particularly stopped giving in over the past couple of weeks, even after he understood, even with what he had with Hux, and even though the General knew and disapproved verbally while still sharing the bed when Poe was in it regardless. He shook off the guilt like an odd chill from the cold as the kisses deepened and hands roamed. Poe wanted this. He _wanted this_. Ren could feel it in their connection, could feel it thrumming through his blood. He wanted this, even if the reason why was murky and buried in ancient history.

He wanted this.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ren didn’t leave the room until an hour later with the taste of Poe’s lips on his tongue and the feeling of his tight, delicious warmth around him lingering in his mind the way that the scent of Hux’s cologne clung to his uniform even after a long day.

“You honestly can’t help yourself one afternoon, can you?”

He ignored Hux’s critical tone, continuing to walk forward as the man fell into step beside him. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, General.”

Hux was equally proficient at ignoring cutting quips, a skill they had both practiced to perfection…and yet they still acknowledged them for the sport of it, Ren thought.

“Shall I have a go at him then, since you’ve been thoroughly spent?”

The taunt in his voice was clear, but Ren still growled, his hand going to Hux’s collar just as Poe’s had pulled at his. He yanked him close, his brown eyes meeting green that flashed at him defiantly as if to say _“I dare you”._ The standoff ended in Ren crushing the General’s mouth to his in a kiss that become something deep and crude and tinged with warning amidst the desire. He released him roughly.

“Do what you wish.”

Hux rolled his eyes, but Ren didn’t miss the way his cheeks had flushed from the kiss as he took his place back at the bridge and distinctly not in his quarters where Poe remained.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ren felt it _deep_ in his chest that he should have seen this coming.

He had initially expected it and yet the possibility had loomed so far in the distance, in notions of impossibility even, that he had pushed the concern out of his mind until the day that it happened. There had been no warning and little fight. He assumed that the traitorous ex-Stormtrooper, FN-2187, was to blame for the stealthy entrance to the dreadnought, and he reminded himself to kill him slowly if he ever saw the man again.

The Resistance had returned for their heroic pilot and they had taken him.

“Well, that certainly takes care of things,” Hux had said with a sigh of relief, sitting back into his chair as his shoulders relaxed.

He was wrong. It hadn’t taken care of things at all, at least not for Ren. _That name_ was chanted in his head like a prayer from that day forward. As it turned out, being physically separated by planets from the other only deepened whatever connection he had created. He could feel the heaviness of Poe’s anguish, tap into his thoughts at will, he could feel the need for him, the worry. He felt it all like a weight on his chest, like gravity pressing him into the ground until he could hardly breathe from the force of it.

_“It’s okay! He still loves me. He’s still Ben!”_

The happily proclaimed words to his enemies stung and embarrassed him, but the more powerful feeling lay in the fact that he knew that the pitiful pleas to the Resistance were useless. Commander Poe Dameron, prize pilot of the Resistance, looked exactly the victim to them that he truly was. Manipulated by the Force, useless, a shell of what he used to be, his old passion and will stripped away to become the needy thing in love with a memory he thought was come true once again. The lie he had allowed him to believe.

(Was it a lie?)

Ren had thought himself clever when the idea of bringing old memories to the surface of Poe’s mind first occurred to him. He thought that he was strong enough to handle them himself, that they meant nothing to him, just memories of Poe and that _boy_. Originally, he thought to use them to cause pain – which worked well enough - but then slowly, the idea of breaking him with memories of love, of affection, and trust, neatly seeded into his mind took hold.

Only one other time had he felt the same vicious bite of failure and culpability that plagued him the way it had since Dameron’s mind had been breached.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hux was in his bed, bare and sleeping soundly, when he first reached out to Poe with his mind.

“Can you hear me?” He hesitated, waiting for confirmation, a sign that Poe was awake and not deep in a sleep as well. “I can feel you.”

_“Ben? Ben, is that you? Oh, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice.”_

The name still managed to prick at him, even after months of hearing it from the other man’s mouth and thoughts. The tired but relieved voice of the Resistance pilot echoed in his own mind and he could tell that the man was simply speaking out loud. Ren wondered if anyone else there could hear.

_“Where are you? Why haven’t you come for me, Sweetheart?”_

The same, old guilt twisted in his gut again.

 _“Ben? Ben, hey, Buddy, don’t go. Please.”_ There was a long pause. _“I miss you…I don’t think I belong here anymore, and I don’t know what that means.”_

This time, the sincerity was too much.

_“Just tell me what to do.”_

“Touch yourself for me.”

The words held no power in them, more of a question without much of the usual inflection. There was no Force guiding them into Poe’s psyche, they didn’t need it. Speaking those words was just so much easier than explaining any of this to the man that wouldn’t be able to understand. How do you explain to someone that you’ve irreparably broken them when that was your intended purpose?

(Skewed, but intended.)

There was no need to be able to see Poe to know if he had heard him when he could _feel_ that he was complying. He could hear the soft moans that became low and desperate and the gasps that sounded like his name. Poe spilled into his own hand with a muffled shout and for a moment, all was still and calm. His desire had been to relax him, to perhaps give him some peace after weeks of confusion and pain, but as he listened to the man’s heaving breaths and heard the words _“I love you”_ sighed out in a gentle huff, he felt like he’d only taken another piece of the man instead.

Ren broke contact.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nearly two weeks had passed since reaching out to him, though he never stopped listening - he wasn’t even sure that he fully could if he wanted to, and he _did_. Foolishly, he had nurtured the idea that Poe would slowly regain what he had taken away if he kept his distance, but the pilot persisted. Their connection never wavered, and it seemed, Poe never reverted to his usual self, absent him.

_“He loves me, Leia. You don’t understand. He still loves me.”_

Every time similar words reverberated back at him, it was like a punch to the stomach.

The nights were the worst of it, whether Ren was jerked from sleep by Poe’s nightmares and screams for _Ben_ , or his mumbled pleas as he tossed and turned. A week earlier, Poe had attempted to steal an X-Wing. That was when they decided that locking him in his quarters was the only option for his safety and theirs, and Ren _hadn’t meant_ for this to happen. Yes, he’d wanted to defeat the pilot in a way. Yes, he’d been angry. He’d wanted to cripple the Resistance, he’d wanted to hurt them _all_ but then why did he feel this way now that he had finally begun to succeed? Why did he have thoughts of reuniting with him and finding a way to fix all of this, no matter how impossible he thought that may be? 

He was able to feel the connection doubly when the scavenger feebly attempted to invade Poe’s mind as he had, gently prodding with her limited knowledge of the Force in what Ren assumed was a final, ditch effort to bring him back to his old self. He wasn’t an idiot and he knew there wasn’t much time left. It had been nearly a month since Poe had returned to the Resistance changed, in love or obsessed, manipulated by the First Order until there was no guarantee or even a reason to believe that he could be trusted among them. Why should they trust a man that seemed in every way delusional and no longer seeing their cause as priority? Why should he be allowed close to their leaders? Loyal as they were, he knew that even the rebels knew the meaning of the greater good and the phrase ‘living on borrowed time’.

He felt it when Rey saw images of their intimacy inadvertently pulled from his memories, old and new, images of their pilot with him, with Hux. He could sense Leia Organa’s presence in the room as well, but wouldn’t allow himself to sense anything else regarding her. He could hear Poe’s cries of pain at the clumsy intrusion until Rey broke the connection abruptly, frightened and upset.

Rey’s choked sobs into the traitor she called Finn’s chest were only salt on the wounds as he heard her gasp out, _“I couldn’t help him. It’s so much worse than I imagined and I couldn’t help him.”_

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His heart was heavy and his head felt blurred around the edges. Sleep didn’t come easily anymore and especially today, he felt the consistent tug of exhaustion as he tromped around the halls, frustrated.

“There’s a reason that they left him on that planet, Ren. He’s utterly useless.”

Ren supposed that was meant to comfort him in a sick way. “Yes. He is.” His answer was slow and even, but apparently, it was neither slow nor even enough to convince the General beside him of his words.

Hux’s face grew slightly red with frustration. “Yes?” he repeated hotly. “And whose fault is that? Honestly, Ren, you should see this as more of a victory rather than stomping about like a child.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Why not?” he snapped back at him sharply like the clack of a cur’s jaws snapping on air in warning. “Their best pilot is out of commission, their morale more likely than not will be shattered if it isn’t already.” He adjusted course mid step, moving in front of Ren, making the larger man stop just as short. “They’ve _seen_ your power now. They’ve seen the power of the First Order. What more do you want from this?”

His throat felt thick and swallowing didn’t help. Pausing though, _did_ seem to help further irritate his partner and second, especially the longer he waited, and somehow that made him feel better about his own discomfort. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Oh, don’t act like this is a moral dilemma in need of righting, Ren. You absolutely meant to manipulate his mind and you _did it wrong_. Accept your failure and forget him.”

“Fine,” he replied flippantly. “Then I’m no longer discussing this matter with you.”

Ren attempted to step aside, but again, Hux blocked his path. He narrowed his eyes as if he could read his thoughts rather than it being the other way around.

“You’re thinking of going back for him.” The General waited for a long, deliberating moment, his eyes boring into Ren’s accusingly. “You want him back in your bed.” His words had been chosen carefully. Not _our_ bed. Not here on the dreadnought. _His_ bed.

Ren ignored him, turning on his heel in the direction of the hangar where his ship was being fueled.

The joke was on him, he didn’t know what he wanted at all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked it by dropping a review. :) God, I was just badly bitten by the dark angst bug. Let me know if I should write anymore darkpilot, angsty or fluffy. This was fun!


End file.
